


Even If Nobody Else Sings Along

by sunsetmog



Series: Even If Nobody Else Sings Along [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron looks at him like he's stupid, which is actually a look Jackson kind of likes. Aaron's withering look is one of Jackson's favourites, not that Jackson intends to admit that any time soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even If Nobody Else Sings Along

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/51967.html) in June 2010.
> 
> Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt "picnic".
> 
> Notes: Set post-first (proper) kiss. Beta by reni_days.

When Jackson comes out of Declan's place at lunch time, it's to find Aaron leaning up against his Transit, arms crossed.

"I thought we were meeting at the pub?" Jackson asks, nudging Aaron out of the way so he can tug open the door to his van. He's spent all morning holed up working in Declan's bathroom, and it feels good just to be outside, and not stuck inside with a toolbox and his radio for company. 

"We were," Aaron says. He's still in his garage overalls, but it's hot out—at least for Yorkshire—and he's unbuttoned it and pushed it down so it's hanging down past his waist, empty sleeves down by his knees. His t-shirt has a faded oil stain across the neck and the sleeve is ripped, but it looks a lot cleaner than what Jackson's wearing. 

"So," prompts Jackson. As well as being dirty, he probably smells quite a lot like turpentine, so he leans past Aaron and tugs his spare t-shirt out of the bag in the footwell. He changes, right there in the street, where anybody—even that batty old lady with the stupid hats from next door who keeps telling Jackson to keep the building noise down to a minimum, or Aaron's family, or even Aaron himself—can see him. "What's up with the pub? Closed? Run out of beer? Zombie apocalypse?"

Aaron looks at him like he's stupid, which is actually a look Jackson kind of likes. Aaron's withering look is one of Jackson's favourites, not that Jackson intends to admit that any time soon. "You're mad, you," Aaron says, but Jackson can see the touch of a pink flush across Aaron's cheeks as he watches Jackson pull on his clean t-shirt. 

Jackson just grins, and dumps his dirty shirt on the front seat of his van before slamming the door. "So—" he says, after a moment. "Pub?"

"Uh," Aaron says, and Jackson takes a moment to realise that there are two bags of crisps, two cans of coke and a tinfoil wrapped packet of something that looks a lot like sandwiches on Jackson's bonnet. 

Jackson can't help it, he laughs. 

Aaron does his best to look annoyed but he doesn't look like he can keep it up for long, not when Jackson's bumping Aaron's elbow with his fist and grinning. 

"Aww," Jackson says, elbowing him again. "You brought me lunch."

"Shut up," Aaron says. "I did not. Paddy made too many sandwiches, forgot he was going to some stupid vet thing with Rhona. Div." He makes to gather them up again, and stuff them into the pockets of his overalls. "If you don't want them -"

Jackson grabs his wrist, stopping him. "I do," he says. Aaron's mutinous look softens, and Jackson smiles, wishing he could sling his arm around Aaron's shoulders and just tug him closer. Aaron shoves his hands into his pockets, though, and Jackson waits a beat, just to see if Aaron moves away. He doesn't, and Jackson grins again, because this is progress. It's all progress. He loves progress. "You brought me a picnic," he says, and he can't help but laugh again, because Aaron looks outraged. "That's really sweet -"

"It is not _sweet_ ," Aaron tells him, insulted. Now _that's_ sweet, Jackson thinks. "Take that back."

Jackson blinks, holding back a grin. "You want me to come with you, or what? Because I can just stay here."

"You can if you want to," Aaron says, and Jackson's reminded of the frustrating side of being with Aaron—his unerring belief that everyone would rather be anywhere than there with him.

"Idiot," Jackson says, as affectionately as he can manage without letting on to Aaron that what they're actually having is a conversation where they're expressing actual fondness. "You decide yet where we're going to have this not-picnic, yet, or do we have to figure out as we go?"

Aaron smiles then, and Jackson leans past him to get the cans of coke and the pack of sandwiches, leaving the crisps for Aaron to grab. 

"Up here," Aaron says, which doesn't actually tell Jackson anything, since all Aaron's doing is nodding up the road to his place, and Jackson's almost sure they're not going there, not with Pearl in the vet's surgery, cataloguing Aaron's every movement to report back to all and sundry. Not that Aaron seems to mind that like he did before. Jackson _really_ likes progress.

He's right, and they don't go into Aaron and Paddy's house. They take a left instead, walking down the hill and over the bridge, where there's a path that leads down to the riverbank. Aaron takes him right by the green where Jackson expects them to stop, and instead has him climb over the stile and walk around the bend in the river, where they can't see the village any more. 

"Well?" Aaron asks. He's wearing his toughest, fiercest face, but Jackson knows that look by now. 

He doesn't hesitate, tugging Aaron closer by hooking his fingers into the waistband of Aaron's overalls and pulling. 

"Oy," Aaron says. "What are you doing?" 

"This," Jackson says, because Aaron can be really dense sometimes. Jackson's juggling the sandwiches and the cans of coke, but learning how to manhandle four pints and two packets of crisps across a pub on a crammed Saturday night is a skill he can put to good use, and he uses his free hand to pull Aaron flush against him so he can press a kiss to his mouth, just quickly, his mouth sliding across Aaron's. 

When he pulls back, Aaron's flushed, surprise written across his face. His gaze flicks up to meet Jackson's, and back down to his mouth. Then Aaron's closing the distance between them, and kissing him again.

Jackson's content to let Aaron take the lead. He doesn't mind. He likes being with Aaron, likes his company and the way he smiles, and how tentative and shy he is when he isn't being infuriating and monosyllabic and fierce. Jackson even likes that side of him, at least when Aaron isn't trying to take his anger out with his fists, but his favourite Aaron is the one he's got here, the one who's kissing him tentatively, one hand sneaking around the back of Jackson's neck, pulling him closer. Jackson doesn't protest, because Aaron's mouth is on his, and his kisses are sweet but still a little nervous and unsure. Jackson doesn't push, happy to let Aaron set the pace.

It's weirdly romantic - without a doubt the most romantic thing Aaron's ever done for him, and thinking about it, probably for anyone, ever. They're both a little breathless when they pull away, and Aaron drops his gaze. 

"So this is why you didn't want to go to the pub for lunch." Jackson says, to break the tension. He contemplates reaching for Aaron's hand, but he doesn't. It's enough that when Aaron looks up, his cheeks are pink and he grins, almost without realising it. 

"Shit," Aaron says, "can you imagine what they'd all say?"

"Your family would probably throw us a party," Jackson says, because he's never been involved with anyone whose family was anything like Aaron's haphazard, makeshift one. 

Aaron looks disgusted. "They're all mad. They should just mind their own business."

"They care, that's all," Jackson says, equably. He cares too, he thinks, and for the first time, it doesn't bother him at all. 

"Yeah, well," Aaron says. "They should go care somewhere else."

Jackson doesn't push it. He knows Aaron appreciates them, and he knows Aaron knows it too, even when he can't express it. "So, where do you want to sit?"

Aaron shrugs. "I dunno," he says. 

Jackson just rolls his eyes. "Got to do everything yourself round here," he grumbles, but he knows Aaron can't always tell when he's joking, so he tugs on Aaron's overalls, too, pulling him along behind him.

He picks a spot on the river bank, and sits down. Aaron doesn't, and Jackson's left looking up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. "You sitting down, or what?"

"What," Aaron says, but he sits down anyway, and Jackson opens first one can of coke, and then the other. Aaron rolls his eyes when Jackson hands him one. "I can open my own, you know."

Jackson ignores him. "So," he prompts, because Aaron's just sitting there and not saying anything. "Sandwiches?"

"In there," Aaron says, pointing at the tinfoil. Jackson wants to say, _I know_ , but he doesn't. He waits, instead, giving Aaron time to formulate his thoughts. 

"This thing," Aaron says, finally, and Jackson looks up just in time to see Aaron moving his finger back and forth, a tiny _you and me_ gesture that Jackson's pretty glad he didn't miss. 

"Yes," Jackson says, patiently. He's hungry, and he'd rush Aaron except he's pretty sure Aaron's having some kind of epiphany. 

"Are we -" Aaron says, finally.

Jackson puts him out of his misery. "Going out?" Part of him just wants to say _yes_. "If you want to," he says, instead.

"Yeah, but," Aaron says. "Do you want to?"

"Yes," Jackson says, because he doesn't believe in beating around the bush. "I really like you," he adds, because he can't see the harm in laying all his cards on the table. It's not like it's a secret, anyway.

"Oh, Aaron says, and then he looks down at the grass and pulls out a handful, just because. "So, going out would mean -"

Jackson almost makes fun, but the firm set to Aaron's jaw means it's a genuine question, and Jackson wonders—not for the first time—what Aaron's life was actually like before he came here, before he had Paddy and the rest of his hotch-potch family hanging around him and sticking their noses into Aaron's business.

"This," Jackson says, because it would be. "Just like a girlfriend."

"Never could keep one of those," Aaron admits.

"Yeah, because you prefer dick," Jackson points out. Aaron laughs, and the situation's lightened, at least. "So, do you want to?" he asks, finally, because Aaron's still thinking, and the sandwiches are lying between them on the ground, not forgotten, but untouched.

Aaron shrugs one shoulder, and Jackson lets out a breath, and leans back on his elbows.

"Does this mean I have to do all that romantic shit?" Aaron asks, after a while.

"Like organising surprise picnics by the river?" Jackson puts in, unable to help himself. 

"Shut up," Aaron says. "But really."

"I like you and I think you like me," Jackson says, because sometimes he's sure that going out with Aaron is going to require explaining things in little words to get past Aaron's mental blocks. He doesn't mind, not if it works. Not if Aaron's okay, and they're happy.

"Right," Aaron says, and he leans over to unwrap the tinfoil. "Ham salad," he says, and passes Jackson a sandwich. 

Jackson's half way through a bite when Aaron says, "I do, you know."

"What?" 

"Like you," Aaron admits. He's staring down at his sandwich. 

"Yeah," Jackson says, and he nudges Aaron's ankle with the toe of his boot. "I know."

They finish off the rest of their sandwiches without saying a word, and when they're done, Aaron leans over and bumps his shoulder against Jackson's. "I don't do nothing I don't want to do," he says, softly.

Jackson grins. "I know," he says, and when Aaron kisses him, he's ready and waiting. 

[End]


End file.
